


Responsibilities

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse has responsibilities Walt doesn't know about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Responsibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoilers for S4.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and don't make any money from this.

It’s the third time this week that Jesse has slept in Walt’s bed at the condo, and Walt is beginning to figure he might as well just as him to move in.

It doesn’t escape him that part of the upside of that plan would be that he’d be able to keep his eye on Jesse. Ever since they made up after their rather brutal falling out, and then went from that, somehow, to sleeping together – if Walt had to chart it, he doesn’t think he’d be able to – Walt has been hounded by the thought of losing Jesse, losing track of him and having him slip out of Walt’s reach.

So, when Jesse had started being out of touch for hours at a time, not answering his phone and being elusive about where he’d been, Walt had pushed the offer to stay on him. Just to make things easier, he said. He suspects that Jesse thought he was just being a lonely old man, especially given the fact that he hasn’t really talked to Skyler about anything other than the car wash since Gus’ death (and certainly hasn’t made any attempt to move back home again)… He figures that Jesse just thinks he’s a stand in.

Which is fine by Walt as long as he can keep his eye on him.

He can Jesse stir against him, yawning as he rolls over on his side and then steps out of the bed. Walt shifts off the best as well, following silently, and rooting around for the shoes which have gone, well, somewhere, along with several other of his possessions since Jesse de facto moved in.

“Jesse,” Walt calls, as the younger man crosses the room and heads towards the bathroom. “Have you seen my Season 1 of Hill Street Blues?”

“No,” Jesse replies, “Why would I? I didn’t even know you had it.” 

“Yeah, well, I was supposed to return it to Hank and now I can’t find it… I just wondered if you’d come across it.”

“Nope, sorry,” Jesse replies again, opening the bathroom door.

“Why are you up so early?” Walt presses, and Jesse shrugs.

“Just got some stuff to do,” he says, and Walt hears the door click.

***

Walt considers that maybe he hasn’t learned his lesson, from the last time he decided to follow Jesse, albeit electronically. This time, it’s less technological, less clandestine, and he simply waits for Jesse to drive away in his car before following him in his own. 

He has to rely on that assumption that he’s held fast to, even when shown the proof otherwise – that Jesse is far less swift than him and much easier to fool.

He manages to keep a safe distance behind Jesse and, when Jesse pulls into a parking lot, he parks a few cars behind him, waits, and then exits the car when Jesse is almost out of his line of sight. As he looks around, he realizes it’s a hospital, albeit not the one that he tends to go to, nor the one in which Hank and Jesse were both patients. Reading the sign, he discovers it’s called Kindred Hospital, but that doesn’t ring any particular bell for him.

Walt tries his best to look casual, sticking his hands into his pockets and whistling quietly, trying to act as if he knows exactly where he’s going, not that he’s following around his former student, his lover who’s half his age, who rightfully beat the shit  
out of him the last time he didn’t trust him enough and decided to spy on him.

Why he’s doing it again, he can’t fathom, other than that he can’t bear the thought of losing Jesse. If there’s something he needs to know – if Jesse is using again, or if he’s mixed up with someone dangerous, Walt needs to know so Walt can fix it.  
Or maybe he’s just kidding himself, considering he needed Jesse to help him out of the pit he’d dug himself into, instead of the other way around. But at least Jesse lets him feel protective, not like Skyler, who undercuts him at every turn and makes him feel like more of a cancer on his family than a cure.

He walks through the double doors and considers the possibility of donning some sort of disguise, but brushes it off with the strange feeling that if Jesse were to catch him, he’d know him anyway.

They’re connected. Jesse knows him, the real him, and as much as Walt doesn’t want to believe it, some little voice in his head keeps telling him that Jesse knows about Brock, knows about Jane, knows about everything Walt has done for and to him.  
And maybe that’s why he can’t bear to lose him, to let him out of his sight.

He sees Jesse turn a corner; he doesn’t stop at the receptionist’s desk to ask for directions so he’s been here before. 

_Who could he be…?_

The thought is cut off as Jesse turns into a room, and Walt is left standing outside, pressed against the wall and trying to listen in as best he can. He feels like a child, eavesdropping on parents who are having a conversation too mature for young ears, and the thought almost makes him burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, until he hears Jesse’s voice.

“Hey, Mr. Margolis. It’s me… Jesse.” 

The reply comes slow, but it’s unmistakable, and Walt pales. 

“Hey, Jesse.”

Walt turns his head to peek into the room, unable to stop himself, and when he looks inside the room, it’s like seeing a ghost. And it is. _Donald Margolis is supposed to be dead, that’s what everyone said… a gunshot wound to the head…_ and the fact that it unintentionally rhymes almost sends Walt into fits of hysterical laughter but he bites his lip, hard, because if Donald Margolis saw him…

If Jesse hadn’t known before then, he’d know now, because Margolis would know him as the man with the… the “nephew”, he’d know that nephew was Jesse and he’d know…

_It wouldn’t be far from there, so that can’t happen._

_But what in the hell is Jesse doing with Margolis, anyway?_

Donald Margolis isn’t dead. But he doesn’t look to be in very good shape, either. Although he’s sitting up, he’s connected to a number of machines and the right side of his head is bandaged heavily. Jesse is sitting beside him, in a chair next to the hospital bed, and he’s handing Margolis something, some piece of paper.

“I got Saul to sell the property like you wanted me to. He’s the proof of sale, and the money’s all in your bank account like you asked. I went and got everything of… everything of Jane’s and put it into storage, so if… you want anything in particular, just let me know and I can make sure to go get it. When are you leaving for Phoenix?”

“Next week,” Donald replies, but there’s a large gap between the words, leaving Jesse half-nodding as he must be hanging on each. 

“I can ship, too.”

“I can pay you for the storage,” Donald begins, painstakingly, but Jesse shakes his head.

“It’s the least I can do, okay. I brought that photo album, though. The one you were asking about.” 

_What in the absolute hell?_ Walt is torn somewhere between incredibly confused and raging. _Why are Margolis and Jesse cozying up to each other? What the hell have I missed?_

_Then again, Walt, you didn’t even know the man was alive._

Everything Donald Margolis represents – the plane crash, the end of his peaceful days with Skyler, the loss of Jesse’s innocence, hell, in a way the loss of his own – comes flooding back, and he can’t help but wonder why the fuck Jesse hasn’t put this behind him, hasn’t wanted to put this behind him. Apparently he’d rather come running back to it… and the memory of that fucking girl that was willing to destroy them both.

Despite it all, he still loves Jane. _By killing her – letting her die – you made her a martyr. Better, maybe, to let her burn them both to the goddamned wick._

But no, that wasn’t a possibility. Never a possibility, because Jesse is his and always was.

“Thank you for everything, Jesse,” Donald says, and he raises his hand with obvious effort, to his shoulder, as Jesse takes it and shakes his hand. “After everything…”

“I have to do right by you,” Jesse replies, “It’s… worth it. Just… focus on taking care of yourself and anything you need, just… call okay?” Donald pauses, as if searching painstakingly for the next words.

“D’you need your copy of Hill Street back?”

“Nah. Turns out it belongs to my friend’s dick of a brother-in-law. I’ll replace it eventually,” Jesse says with a conspiratorial grin. “They’ve been helping you with the DVD player, right?” Donald nods.

“Jesse, I was wrong about you.”

Jesse shakes his head.

“No, you weren’t.”

There’s a long pause, before Donald speaks up again.

“The photos?”

Jesse procures, from somewhere unseen, a large black photo album and opens it, placing it on Donald’s lap. 

“What’s this one?” Jesse asks quietly, pointing to a photo.

“My ex-wife. Dina. Jane’s mother.”

“She looks like her.”

Donald’s face curls up into a smile. 

“Yeah.”

Jesse turns the page and points to another photo.

“What’s this one?”

“This is…” Donald pauses, as if trying to conjure up the memory. “This grade school… talent show, thing… Jane sang that song from ‘Titanic’.”

“My Heart Will Go On?” Jesse cut in enthusiastically, with a grin. “Oh man!” 

“Yeah…” 

Walt starts to feel almost voyeuristic, watching the conversation, now, but it’s mixed with resentment – he almost wants to rush in and break up the… whatever it is… but instead he turns and walks to the end of the hall, deciding to head home before Jesse has a chance to catch him.

He doesn’t walk fast enough, because as he’s exiting the double doors again, he hears Jesse’s voice behind him.

“Mr. White! Yeah, I thought I heard you there.” Jesse’s voice is quietly accusing.

Walt turns to face him, swallowing. 

“I…” he starts, but Jesse cuts him off.

“So you know.”

“Yeah,” Walt replies. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why… any of this? You and Margolis? I mean, come on… You can’t really think…”

“Yeah, he ought to hate me, right?” Jesse fires back. “Well, he did. He…” He pauses and swallows hard and seems to backtrack, to start at the beginning whether Walt wants to hear it or not. “After… the whole thing with that guy – Tuco’s uncle – after Gus visited him and basically… tormented the guy, I started thinking about… Jane’s dad, y’know? I’d heard about what he’d done and I don’t know, I just couldn’t shake… wanting to make sure he was… okay, as much as he could be after this. I got Saul to figure it out, find out where he was. I wanted to toss money at it, make sure he had good care and all, but… turns out his civil service insurance covered it all. They told me, all he needs, really is someone to visit ‘cause he’s got no family here in ABQ, just out in Phoenix, y’know and after everything none of his old work people visit him, I guess, so… I came by and just started… I apologized, first, just fell apart, and then… I dunno, it was more than that. We could talk about her, y’know? Like I couldn’t with anybody else.”

Walt opens his mouth to cut in, but Jesse brushes him off.

“I had to figure it out. I’m… in this thing with you, now, and I couldn’t… let all that hang over it. So we talked. And… just… became… friends, or whatever. I don’t know.” Jesse sticks his hands into his pockets. “Let’s just go home.”

“My home, you mean?” Walt inquires. He doesn’t know quite what he means by the question.

“Our home,” Jesse replies simply, and starts off into the parking lot, not turning to look behind him. Walt knows he’ll follow, even if he’ll be waiting with his breath held for next week and for the last remainder of proof and eternal competition to fly away to Phoenix.


End file.
